Shadows of Dreams Built and Broken
by Emmeebee
Summary: A series of nine short poems spanning Lily and Severus' friendship from when they meet to when Harry is born. Canon compliant.
1. Normal Skin, Abnormal Within

He was from a broken home, with yelling and screaming a daily lullaby;  
she, one intolerant and sceptic, with what she could do viewed with distaste.  
Two abnormal children, trapped in a normal little town with normal little puppets  
being pulled this way and that by their strings woven from concentrated normality.  
Two abnormal children, wanting somewhere warm where belonging isn't bartered  
with actions and choices and pretences designed to impress and placate.  
He felt fragmented, as if he'd never be whole again, outside the circle of happy smiles;  
she was inside but felt like an amateur actress being directed to be someone  
whose normal, normal skin that does nothing abnormal will never truly be hers.  
Then, in the little park with the trees and swings, they collided, and everything reacted;  
their abnormalities said hello and found proof that somewhere they too could be normal,  
and prejudices fled like wild horses spooked, never to find their way back home to them.

* * *

A/N: Thank you to my brother for beta reading this collection despite the fact that he's clueless about poems; that's dedication.


	2. The Day Her Letter Came

One breath; eleven candles' lives snuffed right out.  
A wish for a place where love's not in drought.  
A lank-haired friend with a matching letter  
that has taken both lives, may make both better.  
Her sister's piercing sneers without relent.  
Her parents' mouths, politely upwards-bent.  
A birthday party, the end of something.  
A birthday party, the start of everything.


	3. 1 September

Starry night skies above well-bedecked tables  
almost bursting at seams with colours and children,  
so surreal it almost seems a place of fables,  
with the chances of reality at one in a billion.  
They walk down that aisle, nervous brides all,  
waiting to be married into a family and life.  
And, although they know it's not their call,  
and that the hat will choose for them their fief,  
she and he walk and hope side by side,  
both wishing to stay together, wherever.  
But when the hat sits heads to look inside,  
it sees that their dream is one it could never,  
for him or her, in good conscience grant;  
poisoned or eaten, at least one would die,  
and both would remain in the state loathed by Kant.  
Instead, determined for both to chance to fly,  
and perhaps improve House relations by the by,  
it throws her to the lions and him to the snakes;  
if they soldier through this, quite a pair they'll make.


	4. The Storm's a-Brewin'

The princess sits in her bricked tower;  
hair of woven flame, dress of gold thread.  
Her prince is escaping his dungeon now,  
galloping hard, spurred on by words unsaid.  
He's pledged to save her from her captors,  
those rash lions to whose den she was taken,  
but his fault is that he unknowingly wrapped her  
in a veil of naïve perfection she wants forsaken.  
While he's storming the castle, she's unpacking and settling in.  
He wants to hold onto the treasured sameness of their past,  
but she doesn't want to live looking over shoulders at places been;  
however sheltered, she knows that kind of living will never last.  
They know his demons are in relentless pursuit.  
They know her guardsmen would never approve.  
But he sneaks in and she sneaks back out.  
Their swords are ready; they're prepped for the bout.


	5. Mudblood

It wasn't the eight little letters,  
innocent by themselves,  
disdainfully arranged;  
it wasn't even their joined meaning,  
that derisive word  
heard so oft by him;  
it was the sentiment, the hatred  
infused in their joined meaning  
and spilling into his tone.  
In that moment he hated her 'kind'  
and he despised _her_.

She wasn't trying to be his white knight,  
red hair flying and horse galloping,  
ready to shield him from the arrows  
and slash down his enemies;  
she only wanted to fight beside him,  
arm to arm and heart to heart.  
But then, throwing down her gauntlet for him,  
she noticed that he was already walking away,  
had been for months,  
and were just then reaching them  
and throwing his down beside theirs.

Once upon a time so fair,  
she lived with blinkers and blindfolds.  
Now upon a time so dire,  
his inevitable path is clear.  
Retrospection brings painful clarity  
all tied up with a neat little bow.  
But when you unwrap your gift,  
it's to find some demented Pandora's Box,  
letting loose everything without relent.  
And hope is left but it's not for them;  
it's for her without him, or for him with her.  
And she has to choose, so she's choosing herself.

* * *

A/N: To anyone who's still without power or internet or who's isolated after the NSW storm, my thoughts and prayers are with you. And, everyone, please stay safe; getting around a few days earlier isn't work the risk.

This is probably my favourite of poem from this series because it was the first one I wrote and came together so easily. It's a little different over on AO3 as I had to change it to third person to fit FF's guidelines. I still like this version, but the other one hits harder at times. The change may cause a bit of a complication later when James is introduced, but it should work out alright.


	6. No Longer the Fool

A beautiful fool for his pretty lies,  
the light of Romance in her eyes,  
but time and tide have made her wise;  
She's turned a blind eye too many times.

Now she's had enough of shifting sands;  
the conch rests securely in his hands.  
She says, 'Make your words the kind that stand;  
I'll no longer be fooled by sleights of hand.'

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the delay! We lost our internet connection again on Saturday, so I had to hold off on updating until I got to uni. Updates will be irregular until the internet returns.


	7. Empty Apologies

Jagged pieces of a life once good and true  
lie cracked on the floor of broken dreams.  
She can't put them together with her glue;  
he tore them apart along hidden seams.

His promises, shattered like dropped china  
just to barter his sole way higher.  
She's like the choking canary to his miner;  
she dies, he profits; time for his one-liner.

He accused her of waiting for any old excuse,  
but no; her excuses were all for him, as if a queue.  
Backs break by straw and through misuse.  
So, although distance coats faces with dew,  
and they both miss what they now lack,  
the truth of the matter isn't all that strange;  
that word was said; he can't now take it back,  
not until empty apologies give way to change.

He's the one who brought the mud  
in to sully their once-great love.  
And he's the one so out for blood  
that he made a lion from a dove.

He said it didn't matter;  
he said he didn't care.  
Then he went ahead and said _that_  
as if she weren't right there.


	8. Sucked into the Mutual Orbit of Love

I remember conversations we had back when we spoke.  
You accused me of fancying him as if it were a crime,  
as if doing so were a fatal injustice against you.  
We used to play a game; one's true thoughts for a dime.  
We never exchanged money, but I thought it quite quaint.  
So, although you've no right to know, I didn't – at the time.  
He was like a sun: blisteringly warm, attractive but repellent.  
Maybe, like you said, that was a blazing warning sign.

But even if it's a mistake, sometimes they're worth making.  
We were always grasping at elusive straws just to make friendship work.  
I know you were sorry, but sometimes that's not enough.  
You would be kind when alone; when with others, a bigoted jerk.  
He's a work in progress sometimes, still on his way to maturity,  
not a boy, not yet a man, and still sporting that hated smirk.  
But then again we all are, all just one cross-section of ourselves.  
And I'm not sorry that I'll never leave, even when he sends me berserk.

I would if he pushed too far, but the thing is I know he won't.  
At the end of the day, he's a good person, and a better friend.  
He was born wayward and went further afield as he grew,  
but all along, like a trained military man, he'd fight to defend  
the kind of people you'll push down to watch suffer and burn.  
He's loyal to a fault, one on whom you can always depend  
to be funny, creative, good, and warm, everything home lacked.  
I read about stopping-places, and I'm sorry, but he's my end.

* * *

A/N: I couldn't find a way to change this to remove the 'you' pronoun without removing the distinction between James and Severus' characters. However, while interactive second person entries aren't allowed, I wouldn't classify this as such, so hopefully it's alright.


	9. One Plus One Equals Three

_One_

This little girl with her faraway lands  
of dragons, moats, and shifting sands  
found that wishes could come true  
as letters arrived for just those two.

The castle cheerfully welcomed them in  
and drew them into its loud, merry din,  
yet time bore down upon them like sin  
until their carriage turned back to pumpkin.

Even glass slippers couldn't reunite  
them, for she had swiftly taken flight;  
they arrived together, but left alone,  
because he'd turned their love to stone.

_Plus One_

Hero and villain changed sides like cassettes,  
for she's never been one who easily forgets,  
and, one day, her kindred spirit caught up to her,  
and time and love followed in a whirlwind blur.

Watchful for underground mines, they moved slow,  
not wanting to be struck by the war's harsh blow.  
Yet being together made them both, as people, grow,  
and always left them both with a warm residual glow.

Their steps were careful but they were both sure  
that their love would be like those in tales of yore.  
The world was loud and spun fast like a park ride,  
but they found their quiet as he made her his bride.

_Equals Three_

Now, my monthly blood is two weeks late,  
so our hands are clasped tight as we wait  
for the healer to confirm if what we suspect  
is a fanciful notion or just plain correct.

She says congratulations, and our grips yield.  
Joy and fear make me their human battlefield.  
That night, we cling to each other like a shield  
to protect against this fate we've sealed.

It'll be tough, that we can't deny,  
but we'll face this together, he and I;  
but you're still the first I want to tell,  
despite the pain I remember all too well.

* * *

A/N: Thank you again to my fantastic brother for betaing this story.


End file.
